Tell us one thing you hope people say about you.
When you live and work in a university college, there is always something happening. Life is shared closely. Everything is slightly magnified. People don’t just pass through one another’s days — they live inside them.
Because of that, a lot of our work involves helping people make sense of things. Sometimes that happens one-on-one. Sometimes it happens quietly. Sometimes it happens in groups, where people need space more than answers.
At a recent morning tea, our chaplain was holding one of those spaces. I gave them space. These gatherings aren’t about leadership or solutions; they’re about presence. People need room to speak without being steered.
At one point, something was said about me — not to me, and not for me. Just in passing. Almost incidental.
He cares.
It wasn’t offered as praise. It wasn’t expanded upon. The conversation moved on.
And yet, it meant a lot when someone told me what was said.
Because caring doesn’t always announce itself. It isn’t loud. It doesn’t always look like activity or decisiveness. Sometimes it looks like an open door. Sometimes it looks like noticing who is sitting slightly apart. Sometimes it looks like taking time when time feels scarce.
I don’t need people to say much about me. I don’t need titles or summaries.
But if, when I’m not in the room, someone says — almost without thinking — he cares…
That would be enough.
The Afterword 
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